


Round Five

by moonlightof1982



Series: Rounds [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 03:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3794905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlightof1982/pseuds/moonlightof1982
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Final Round... FIGHT!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Round Five

"Those two will be the death of me!", Sansa said, her hand over her rapidly beating heart. As she leaned against the door of Petyr's solar, she thought about these two people in her life. Sweetrobin and Petyr were both so demanding... The boy, her attention, the man, her passions, but only with Petyr did she enjoyed her sinful obligations. With Sweetrobin, she did not. As she hurried down the hall, she just wanted the world to leave her alone. Her passions for Petyr grew by the day, and even poor, sickly Sweetrobin had a goodness in him, but she was exhausted. Her days with young lord, and her nights with the old lord was starting to wear on her. 

"Sansa.", whispered the frail looking boy. 

"I'm here, little one. Did you drink your dreamwine?", asked Sansa 

"Yes.", replied Sweetrobin. 

"Then close your eyes, and relax." said Sansa, in the same sweet voice that she used with Petyr. 

Apparently, Sweetrobin enjoyed that voice as well, as he held on tightly to her waist, and settled down. "This boy really loves me.", Sansa thought as held the boy. "Does Petyr love me like this... so adoringly, as if I am a his lifeline?" She didn't know what Petyr truly felt for her besides lust. 

From the stories, the only woman Petyr ever loved was her murdered mother. "Did his loving heart die when my mother died? Could he ever love me with his heart as well as his body?" Sansa decided that trying to figure out Petyr Baelish was the was no better than staring at the sun. "To the Hells with it!", Sansa said out loud. Sansa thought that she would have woken up the young lord with her curses, but the boy had fallen asleep. 

She remembered Petyr's instructions to come back to his solar, but Sansa was exhausted. Instead of worrying about the two lords, she decided to take time for herself, and walked back to her own chambers. "A night in my own bed could do me some good.", thought Sansa. She wiggled out of his grasp, and out of the room. The little lord barely stirred as she left. Once inside her own chambers, Sansa removed her gown, and laid herself on the fresh bedding. She wrapped herself up warm in the blankets, and wondered if Petyr would be angry for disobeying her. If he were to be angry, the last bit of caring drained out of her, as the weight of restful sleep came upon her. 

***  
Sansa felt cold, and in her sleep she reached for her blanket. Her hand fumbled on the bare sheets, but she couldn't find it. She sleepily opened her eyes, and to her surprise, she was not where she was supposed to be. Sansa woke up in a bed that was not her own. It was still dark outside. She must have been asleep only a couple of hours. 

She turned over to find that she was not in her rooms, but back in the Petyr's bed chamber. The bed was larger, and the sheets were of the familiar Myrish Lace that he had her on a few nights past. Despite the fire in his hearth, the room was mainly dark, and quiet as a tomb. There was a figure in the chair at the foot of the bed, sitting upright, staring directly at her. It scared her. She was so afraid that she couldn't move. 

"Who's there?" 

The figure stepped closer, and revealed itself to be Petyr. He sat down on the near her bare feet. She was relieved so see it was him, but something was wrong. His hair was disheveled, there was dried blood on his hand, and his tunic was partly open and askew. His eyes held a darkness that worried her, and his presence over her left her questioning. And the fact that she went to bed in her chamber, and woke up in his did help the situation either. 

"What's wrong, Petyr?", truly not knowing what was going on. 

"I told you to come to me after the boy was settled." 

"Petyr... I was tired." 

"And I was waiting." 

Sansa relief was soon replaced with fear. She started to tremble, and her breathing rate increased. 

"Petyr...?" 

But before she could finish, he was on her. He had pinned her hands above her head with one of his hands, and was viciously ripping her nightshift with the other. Her flimsy nightgown was in tatters on the floor. 

She wrestled naked in his arms. She couldn't get a handle on him. She didn't like what was happening. He was always so gentle with her, so tender, but now, his hands were rough, controlling. He kissed her hard, possessively, and with too much passion. He was squeezing her too tight. She needed him to take his time, to ease her into it, as he did before, but it was too much, too soon. She found no pleasure it, and his action did nothing but frighten her. A horrible flashback of the Riot sprung to her mind. She felt, once again, back in the hands of the rapers! 

"Please, Stop!", screamed Sansa. Tears were welling up in her eyes. 

Petyr looked into her fearful eyes, and stopped his movements. He pulled himself off of her, and sat back in his chair. She looked at him and realized that he was afraid as well, and just as vulnerable. His hands were shaking, and his face was flushed. His blood was up, and she knew it took everything in him to keep his to control. A shaking hand grabbed the Lace, and pushed to fabric to Sansa.

"Cover yourself up. Please!", said a breathless, and unsteady Petyr. His bloody hand went to his brow, as if his head was pounding.  


Sansa bunched the sheet around her body, and across one shoulder. Her hands tightly gripped the sheet to her chest as if it were her amour. She sat still, and watched Petyr. She watched him struggle with himself, with his baser instincts, his dark and dangerous passions that nearly consumed them both. 

Grey-green finally connected to ocean blue. They could only stare at each other with no thought, or speech. Both of their breaths steadied. Both, unmoving. It was like they were holding each other, and comforting each other through the pain they both felt. 

"I'm so sorry, Sansa. I didn't mean to..." 

Sansa slowly reached out her hand to his bloody one. He carefully took hers and sat back down on the bed. 

"There is blood on your hand ." Sansa lifted his hand for him to see. Petyr looked surprised at the amount of blood. 

"I barely noticed.", replied Petyr. 

Sansa looked over and saw a large bowl of water. She picked it up, and sat it carefully between them. She dipped the lace sheet into the bowl and started to blot his hand. The actions brought comfort to Petyr, so much so that he began to speak. 

"You don't know what you do to me, Sansa. What you've done to me since we first met. I have wanted you for so long. Since that first day at the tourney. That first night when you came to me... shaking and crying, it felt like fantasy. Undressing you, helping you into the basin, bathing you, is only a few of things I want to do to you. That first night, I just couldn't believe it. You were so wanton, so willing. I never thought I would feel that from you. You were so wet, and you tasted so good. Every part of you tastes so good. I can't stop thinking about you. All day, all night. It's all I have left. I love you so much, Sansa. I can't go another night without you." 

So comforted, invigorated, and aroused by his confession, she took is now clean hand, and she let him palm her cheek. They instantly exhaled from the contact. His thumb found her lips, and caressed them slowly. She closed her eyes and briefly enjoyed the touch. Yet, she was still apprehensive. Petyr picked up on her hesitation and said, "It's okay. Don't be afraid." 

Sansa opened her passion filled eyes, and kissed him. She couldn't believe that in a matter of moments, this same man, this loving, beguiling man, had taken her to such a dark, frightening place. She could hear the love in his voice, feel it in his touch, and she was gobsmacked that it all emanated from this one being. He knew so well what to say, how and where to touch, how to react, that she was once again caught in the deep rapture of it. 

His lips traveled to the nape of her neck, to the spot that he knew ignited her already burning passions. Sansa moaned as he kissed her there. Her eyes rolled and closed as his mouth went to work. His tongue found the spot as well, and she sighed from its contact. 

"So beautiful.", she heard Petyr whisper in her ear. His mustache tickled her lobe, and she smiled, and let out a small chuckle. 

"You think that's funny, don't do?", proud of her reaction. 

"Stop.", she whispered. 

Petyr looked into her eyes and asked, "Do you want me to stop?" 

"No." 

Sansa gingerly stood up in front of him, and said, "Undress me." 

Petyr took her hand, kissed it, and to her knuckles, he said, "My sweet Sansa." 

While sitting, he reached up, took hold of the sheet, and let it fall around her ankles. Then, he stood with her, and laid her gently on the bed. 

From the bed she commanded, "Undress yourself." The wicked gleam in his eyes matched hers. She loved the fact that he let her indulge like this. No one else ever let her before, and in that moment, as she laid naked in his bed, she felt like the most powerful woman in Westeros. 

His boots came off first with two thuds, then he went to work on his black tunic. Underneath it, was a amber undertunic, decorated with brown lines in a swivel pattern, that extended to just above his knees. He lifted it above his head and the infamous scar came into view. It extended from the collarbone to his navel. Purple, red, yellow, and brown, all shone and bled together in a straight line down his torso. She remember all the bruises Joffrey's Kingguards put on her skin, but nothing like that scar. It explained a lot, like why he was the way he was. 

His hands took to the laces of breeches, and within a moment he was a naked as she was. She extended her hand, open her legs, and pulled his gently on top of her. She felt his sex rubbing up against hers. "This must have been how it felt for the First men. Naked, primal, raw!", she whispers in his ear. She could see Petyr practically frothing at the mouth. Sansa finally give him the permission that he has been waiting for since the day of their first meeting, looking into his eyes and saying. "Take me, Petyr." 

With no further words, his tongue found her nipples. Gods, she missed this, missed him. She sank her teeth into his shoulder and licked it clean. Her nails scratched his back, oh so gently, just enough to make him want more. Then his mouth traveled lowered to her belly. He licked inside her navel, then began a route lower. He went down, and deep on her. He kept his eyes stayed on hers as he ate her cunt. "Oh the nerve of him!", Sansa thought as waves of pleasure crashed in. He supped on her sex as stars filled her vision. She felt lifted, from the loss of her family, and from her destroyed home. All she wanted was Petyr, and the pleasure his body could give. 

"More, Petyr! More! Play With My Nipples Again!", she begged. Petyr squeezed her breasts hard, and just right. "Oh, Petyr, AHHHH!" She came so hard, nearly blinded by the feel of the convulsions throughout her body. She was on the verge of passing out, when Petyr crawled up between her legs and said, "Oh no, sweetling, I'm not finished yet." She couldn't respond, she was so lost in pleasure. Petyr plunged his cock into her dripping wet cunt. Sansa moaned loudly, and arched her back. He put his hands on her wrist and held them there. He selfishly drew himself into her again and again, deeper and deeper. Petyr could no longer control himself. They fucked so hard, that they bounced on the bed in unison. They could hear the squeaking bed, but it seemed far away, and unimportant. The pain gave way to the pleasure, and she came undone again, coming again for a second time. 

"Get On All Fours!", a mad with lust Petyr commanded! 

Her mind said "no!", but her throbbing cunt said, "YES!" 

She got on her knees. and bent over in front of him. She held onto the headboard for dear life. Petyr plunged deep from behind. She liked this position even better, and was giddy with pleasure, and the thought of next time. He rammed her with a relentless, and punishing pace. They both ached, moaned and whimpered, neither of them wanting this to end. Finally that night, Petyr came, right on time with her, with Petyr howling, and Sansa flying! 

*** 

"Wake up, sweetling!" 

Sansa woke to Petyr binging her a tray of honeycakes, milk and grapes. 

"Um, looks goods." 

Petyr and Sansa smiled at each other as they ate. She ate the grapes and he nibbled on honeycakes. 

"So sweetling, how are you this morning? We had long night last night." 

"I'm fine. Tired, but fine." 

"Then stay in my bed today. No need to get dressed.", teased a smiling Petyr. 

"Oh Petyr, stop!" 

"Do you want me to stop?", Petyr said, in all seriousness. 

Sansa looked directly into Petyr's eyes, picked the juicy grape off the spigot, put it slowly into her mouth, and said, "Never!"

**Author's Note:**

> Done and Done! I hope you all enjoyed The "Rounds" Series. This was the hardest to write. "Little Elves" told me what was going to happen in the future for Sansa and Petyr on the show, and let's just say that I was as disappointed. Oh well, I hope all of you liked my story.Thank you for the hits, kudos, and comments.


End file.
